As he reached for the remote, his phone rang. It was Shepard. He tossed the remote aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Shepard,” he said.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching a bad show.”
“Want a beer?”
He glanced at the half-consumed beer. “Sure.”
“I can be there in five minutes.”
“Great.” He hung up and poured his beer down the sink and stashed the other five in the small minifridge. As he tucked in his shirt, there was a knock on his door.
Habit had him reaching for his weapon on the nightstand and peering out the peephole. Shepard was staring directly at the door as if she knew he was checking out his late-night visitor. She held up the six-pack and grinned.
A smile tipped the edges of his lips and he opened the door. He did not speak as he stepped aside and nodded for her to enter. Her damp hair smelled of roses or lavender, and her skin looked dewy and moist. His mind jerked to her standing naked in a shower.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.
He shut the door. “Why?”
Her shoulders rose in what he now saw as a nervous habit. “Dead prostitutes. Severed fingers. Two killers who haven’t been stopped. You pick.” She handed him a beer and then twisted off the top of another.
“Do you often have trouble sleeping?” he asked.
“You don’t?” She took a pull, and his gaze was drawn to the slim line of her neck.
“I’ve never slept well.”
She dug her finger along the label of her beer bottle. “I had the sensation someone had been in my town house. I searched it top to bottom. Nothing. Then I received a phone call with no one on the other end. It was from a burner phone.”
“It upset you.”
“More like pissed me off. But after my encounter with the Key Killer, I’ve been a little touchy.” She set her beer down by the television. “And gauging your reaction, I might be a tad paranoid.”
“I don’t get amped up.”
“Oh, really?” She paused, as if choosing her next words carefully. “I’d rather not be alone tonight.”
He understood the need to connect, to feel not alone all the time. He set his beer down and crossed to her. “What do you have in mind, Agent?”
His deep tone sparked heat in her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “Three guesses and the first two don’t count.”
“Say it,” he said.
“I want to have sex with you.”
His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”
“Oddly, yes. Very. What about you?”
“This moment has crossed my mind once or twice.”
That coaxed a smile. “Really? You were thinking about me?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
Instead of answering, he reached for the clip holding her hair up and tugged it free. The damp curls framed her face and brushed her shoulders. He ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s as soft as it looks.”
“Is that all you thought about doing?” Her voice had grown husky.
“Not all.”
“What about this?” She reached for the top button of her blouse and slowly undid two.
As she reached for the third button, he took her hand and pulled her toward him. “Are you in a rush?”
“Depends.”
“We’re not going to rush this.” It was not a request. He was practical enough to know life was going to pull them apart soon enough. He wanted to savor her. He cupped her face and kissed her on the lips.
She leaned into the kiss. Energy radiated through her, and he sensed she was lowering her guard to him. He liked that she had decided to trust him.
He deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of her mouth. He tasted beer. His hand slid to her shoulder and then along her waist. He then realized he was not so different from Shepard. Self-imposed exile for the sake of work and a constant need for justice had also left him isolated.
He reached for the next button on her shirt and carefully unfastened it. “So much for going slow,” he said.
“I don’t do patient.”
His gaze was drawn to her delicate bronze skin, which reminded him of honey. He kissed her naked shoulder and then the hollow of her neck before dropping his lips to the crest of her full breasts.
Melina drew in a breath, threading her fingers through his hair and arching toward him. Neither spoke as they continued to kiss, touch, and strip clothing that dropped to the growing pile on the floor.
Naked, she was not shy and made no attempt to hide from him. She took him by the hand and led him toward the bed. With the goofy sitcom now muted but still playing in the background, she crawled to the center of the bed and propped herself up on both pillows.
Ramsey’s grip on his control shattered. All he could think about now was being inside her. He followed her and slowly straddled her. She shifted, moving him to her moist center as he slid inside her.
She drew in a breath, rubbing her hands over his back and then over his buttocks as her excitement rose. He waited as her body adjusted and then very slowly began to move. She arched toward him, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him in deeper.
There were always real monsters in the shadows, waiting for Ramsey to lower his guard so they could claim another victim. He had been warned by a veteran officer that he could not save everyone and to try to do so would be his ruin. He consciously chose not to heed that advice. All could be saved. His duty was to be forever vigilant in the hunt for monsters.
But in this moment, he let his guard slip. He allowed the sensations of pleasure to satisfy the longings and fill the loneliness that had hollowed out his insides.
Shepard closed her eyes, and he knew she was headed to a similar place filled with hungry desire that pushed away all her worries and fears. He gratefully followed.
He moved faster, and her moans turned more urgent. She was here for herself, not for him, but he did not care. She was here, and she would take him out of the darkness and toward the light for just a little while.
When she climaxed, arching her back, he tumbled right after her. For a blissful split second, they were one.
He collapsed on top of her, their hearts pounding in a rapid drummer’s beat. She caressed her hand along his back, and he allowed his face to rest in the hollow of her neck.
“Stay for a couple of hours,” he said.
She was silent for a moment, as if she did not quite know how to take it. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you want me to go.”
He rose up on his elbow and touched her chin. He stared into the warm brown eyes that searched his with the same intensity she gave a crime scene. That thought made him smile.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“You’re back to analyzing.” He moved a strand of hair off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear.
A lazy smile coiled the edges of her lips. “And you aren’t?”
“Maybe a little.” He liked having her close and feeling her warmth.
“It’s nice,” she said.
“Nice?”
“I mean being here. The other part was pretty great. It’s been a while. Glad to know all the parts still work.”
He chuckled. “Like riding a bike.”
“Something like that.” She squirmed, and when he rose up to give her space, she slid out from under him. He lay on his back, tucking the pillow behind his head. He was curious about what her next move would be.
She rolled on her side, facing him. She smoothed her hand over his flat belly, drawing small circles. Her fingers moved lower and lower until they skimmed the top of his now-returning erection.
Her smile turned mischievous as she straddled him. After guiding him inside her, she moved up and down. He watched as she cupped her breasts and then rubbed them against his chest.
Once again, he could feel the desire and emotion rise up in her like flames from a pyre. It seemed to consume her, burning into him in a way he had never experienced before. With hands on both sides of her narrow hips, he held on as she rode him hard until finally the heat rushed over him.
She rested her head on his chest, damp with sweat, and leaned forward and kissed him. “Very nice.”
“So you’re staying?”
“Round three?” she teased.
He chuckled. “How about you lay beside me?”
She regarded him and finally nodded. “Just for a little while.”
She nestled her body beside his, and he curled his arm around her waist, taking in her restful breathing. For the first time in years, he did not spend the next hour overanalyzing events. He simply drifted off to sleep.
It didn’t take Sonny long to find Bonnie. Over their years together, he had learned her patterns cold. He began visiting likely motels, stopping at the front desk, showing her picture and his fake police badge. Three hours into his search, he found her South Nashville motel.
He paid the manager twenty bucks and then knocked on Bonnie’s door. Inside he heard a television blaring some kind of game show. Bonnie loved those damn things. When they had been in California, she had put in applications for at least a dozen of them but had never gotten picked. “Just as well,” she had grumbled. “Got to pay taxes on those winnings. And never a good idea to hook up with the Tax Man.”
The curtains fluttered and he knew Bonnie was looking out the window. Fuck. She could be so smug when he had made a mistake. And he had made a few too many since her return.